The Flower Pimp

It was not long ago, just now. The little girl who had given me a “daughter flower” when I left home has passed away. She was seventy-six. She died peacefully, without illness. The children who had grown from the once-lush branches of her family had all started families of their own. Now they crowded around her bed, kneeling and weeping.

The last trace of me in the mortal world had vanished. From now on, no one would remember that in this little village called Yuzhang, there had once lived a woman named Wansu. Her father was Liu Zhiming, her mother Xiao Qing, and their home stood beneath the toon tree at the entrance to the village, where they earned their living in a modest tofu shop. No one would remember how this woman named Wansu was chosen from among countless candidates and sent to the Celestial Court as a palace attendant. Still less would anyone remember the lonely parting beneath Phoenix Mountain on the third day of the third month, seventy years ago. It had been so lonely. Only four people came to see me off. They were allowed to accompany me only to the foot of the mountain; I had to walk the rest of the way alone. Just as I turned and stepped onto Phoenix Terrace, she hurried after me, untied the daughter flower from her hair, and handed it to me. She was only six then, too young to understand parting. I didn’t understand either why Father and Mother wept so bitterly. The Celestial Court was wonderful, with gold and silver everywhere, rare flowers and treasures everywhere. Best of all, no one grew old or died there.